Nightmares Revisited
by PrimeEmily135
Summary: When Yondu's memories of being imprisoned are triggered he isolates himself away from the crew. "Ravagers" series (5)!


**Hello all! This story takes place after "Nightmares". I hope you all enjoy it :)**

Nightmares Revisited: When Yondu's memories of being imprisoned are triggered he isolates himself from the crew.

…

(Yondu)

 _"You can't blame yourself every time something goes wrong… Sometimes, these things just happen…"_

 _"But I could've stopped it."_

 _"No, you couldn't. And that is why it bothers you…"_

 _"…That's not fair. Don't be bringing that up now. I_ hate _myself for not being able to protect you before…"_

 _"…You can't always be a hero Yondu…"_

My mother's words echoed in my head for hours after I shut off the communicator. Haunted me almost. She was right. She always was, but that didn't make me feel much better. Over a fourth of my crew, dead. They were being sent back to their families or ejected out into space. Those were the lives of people who kicked it way before their time. And despite my mother's assurances, I knew that it was all on me.

It wouldn't be the first time I had let someone down…

I stared at the ceiling the first night after the incident. Just staring. I couldn't think, I couldn't move, I could hardly breathe. All around me I knew the Eclector was still busy getting Ravagers into body bags. I knew I should've been out there with them, but I just didn't think I could stomach it. Not just then.

So, I stared. I stared until my eyes were dry and tired, and I continued to stare for hours after that. The first shift came about and I sat up, but I wasn't hungry. The alcohol had worked its way out of my system, which normally leaves me famished, but this time around my body had been numbed in a way that I hadn't felt in years. I didn't feel cold, or hunger, and judging by the blood stuck to my side that I hadn't realized was there, I couldn't feel pain either.

I went about cleaning the wound out of a routine habit. I wasn't sure how deep the cut was, but the bleeding seemed to have stopped sometime during the night. The dried blood had attached my sweater to my body, and it peeled as I pulled the clothing off over my head. I inspected the cut in a small hand held mirror. It would need a few stitches.

After that had been taken care of, I turned my attention to my bed. Like my ruined sweater, it was covered in blood. _Sh*t_ … I sighed, tearing the old blankets away from the mattress. "Ah, sh*t!" I growled, realizing it had put a big stain on the mattress itself. There were many other such stains on the old thing, but this one was a doozy. Apparently, my sluggishness hadn't all been from an overwhelmed mind. I had probably bled out a few pints…

 _The f*cking thing probably needs to be replaced anyways…_

I cleaned up the mess as much as I could, but I ended up just flipping the mattress over and grabbing a blanket out from the wall cubby to throw on top of it. I would deal with that later. I don't know when I thought later would be, but I definitely didn't count on what the next week and a half would hold.

Two days passed in a drunken haze. I didn't eat a f*cking thing. Since I had a bathroom adjoining my room I didn't leave my quarters either. The drinking was starting to make me mentally numb, but it didn't quite drown out my thoughts. I would have continued drinking myself to death had I not ran out of booze around day 5.

I was a mess. Wearing nothing but pants and a bandage from the hip up to my armpit, I sat on the floor with an empty bottle of something still in my hands. I smelled like hell, and felt like it too. Nothing felt real. And yet, everything felt _too_ real. Things that I knew to be in the past, over and done with, were being thrown in my face.

At first I was afraid that I was being affected by a hallucinogen again, but slowly I realized this was something that I had dealt with before. I hadn't had an episode in a long time, but PTSD had a way of rearing its ugly head in my face. And unfortunately, speaking with my mother had not directed my memories to a very good time in my life.

The memories were like they always were, they never changed and I couldn't do anything to change them. It was like seeing myself in the third person, as if I were some kind of ghost unable to do more than watch. One moment I was sitting on the floor of my room on the Eclector, the next I was sitting on a cold, concrete cell floor, next to my mother and across from my ten year old self.

 _She was dead. He had been sure of it. As he cradled his mother's bleeding head in his small lap he was sure that she had passed just like so many others had. He had failed to protect her. That had been his father's final wish: for him to protect her! And he had failed. He had tried to stop them from taking her, over and over he had tried, but they would shove him off or dart him. His mother always screamed for him to stay back and not to get involved, but he just couldn't stand there and let them take her for who knew what. She wouldn't tell him what happened. They would take her away and he could hear her scream for a few minutes before they brought her back. This time they had dumped her back into the cell, deathlike._

 _He cried. As he stroked his small hands over her face, he cried with all the anguish his body could muster. They had taken his father and killed him with the other men. They had taken away his brother and put him who knows where. And now they had killed his mother as well. He was alone. And that scared him terribly. The women and children in neighboring cells tried to console him through the bars, but he would not be comforted. His mother was gone. And he was alone._

 _It was some time before he realized what the people around him were trying to tell him. She was still breathing. They were telling him that she was still alive. However, when he noticed it too it did not assure him. He had seen others fall asleep and get ill in neighboring cells, and then they would die. His mother could still suffer the same fate._

 _Wiping tears away from his face, he laid down next to his mother on the floor, curling up to her much larger form. "Mama… wake up…"_

 _It was a day before she finally stirred, bringing him back to the world. He had not left her side, he had not rested, and he had counted her every breath and all the seconds between them. When he looked into her open eyes she seemed well and very much alive, but she was crying. He did not like to see her crying, but it seemed to be happening a lot more recently._

 _He begged, pleading with his mother to tell him what had happened, but she would not say. She would cry, and wrap her arms around herself in what he eventually recognized as shame. He could not see why she would be ashamed. Those men were too powerful for any of them to fight. She should not be ashamed to be weak._

 _It wasn't until she told him of her pregnancy that he realized with much horror that she had been raped. And suddenly the shame in her eyes was understandable._

 _He hated that look, and it haunted him for the rest of his days._

 _It wasn't long after this revelation that the guards had come back to take his mother away again. He was no stronger than he had been before, but the adrenaline that ran through him had somehow given him enough power to throw back two of the three men from their cell when they tried to get in. He was not only protecting his mother now, he told himself, he was also protecting his unborn sibling. And if it took every bit of his strength he would protect them._

 _His mother shouted for him to get back, to not get involved, but he ignored her. He was the man of the family now, and he had to step up and take his place as protector. The three guards had been taken by surprise at first, giving him a small advantage, but within minutes they had regrouped and took him down. He didn't go without a fight. Many guards walked away with bruises and bloodied noses, but he had not fared well. With broken bones in his hands and many more bruises than what he had dealt out, he crawled back to his mother in the corner of the cell when the guards decided that they had better things to be doing._

 _This happened three more times before they finally came in prepared to "deal" with him. He had fought tooth and claw to keep them away from his family, and he was ready to do it again when they came in. He was in bad shape, and unprepared to be ripped away from the cell and thrown out into the hall way._

 _His mother screamed, reaching through the cell bars towards him as she begged for them to spare him. He didn't understand what was happening at first, but as his hands were being cuffed he started to get the idea. They were going to publicly beat him in front of the other cells._

 _The punishment for defiance was being beaten until you blacked out. He was weak, but he lasted for a long time before things finally went dark. He had been tossed around from guard to guard, each getting in their fair share of blows. One had been particularly brutal with a whip, smacking it down across his shoulders and back until he was sure he would bleed out. Somewhere in the middle of it all he had slumped lifelessly to the ground and they'd tossed him back into the cell with his mother._

 _When he awoke again he was sore, bloody, and exhausted. His mother scolded him softly about the consequences of his actions, but he just spat blood from his mouth and peered up at her through swollen eyes. "Mama, they won't touch you again."_

 _It was a promise. No matter what, he wouldn't let her get hurt anymore. From that day on, once his wounds were healed, he started to exercise and build muscle and strength for their next attempt to get at his mother. But as she was getting more and more pregnant looking, they started to leave her alone. He guessed that they didn't find her attractive now that she had a baby inside her._ F*ck them. _He thought, finishing some pushups._ My mama's the most beautiful person on the planet _._

 _He continued to think that for four more months, until he was introduced to the newest member of his family. His mother had gone into labor sometime in the night, but had not woken him up to tell him. She was trying to stay quiet so the guards wouldn't hear her, but when she started bearing down she couldn't hold back. He had woken up panicked at her screams, and became even more panicked when he realized what was happening. He didn't know what he could do to help, and his mother wasn't in any state to tell him either. It was only through sheer luck that their cell was next to a woman's who had been a healer's daughter. She walked him through the steps of assisting his mother give birth, and by the end of the night she had birthed a baby girl_.

 _He could only find something slightly sharp to cut the cord, but then he was able to turn his attention fully to the little person squealing in his arms._ She has no fin… _he realized right away, his heart sinking. Of course as a halfbreed that had always been a possibility, but he had not truly considered what that would be like until that moment. The fin was what determined beauty in their culture. How would people see her as beautiful if she had no fin?_

 _"Yondu, how is it? Is it okay?" His mother inquired between sobs, her breathing labored._

 _He looked at the baby more closely, looking past the birth fluid and blood that covered her small blue form and he smiled. How could anyone not find her beautiful? "She's perfect." He breathed aloud, actual tears forming in his eyes as he held her out to his mother. As soon as she was out of his arms he felt at a loss, but he knew his mother was anxious to see her newest child._

 _The baby cried loudly, and he realized just how cold it must be for her. Ripping his ragged shirt off over his head, he handed it over to his mother to be used as a blanket. He moved to crouch beside his mother, and peered at his baby sister. She just kept crying, but he suspected he would too had he be born into this cruel world that they lived in now. His mother hushed her quietly, rocking her back and forth. He just watched, his heart swelling with happiness._

 _Reaching out carefully, he pulled back the shirt a bit to get a better look at her face, and all but froze completely when her little hand touched his index finger. Her little hand may have been wrapped over his finger, but from that moment on neither he or his mother could deny that he was wrapped around her little finger. If she ever needed anything he was there for her. If she was cold, he gave up his shirt. If she were hungry, he gave up what little food he had. If she were tired, he would let her head rest on his lap and tell her stories to put her to sleep. He was completely at her beckon call._

 _Over the next few years he grew, doubled in size actually, until he was a formidable person to be dealt with. He continued his exercise, and despite the lack of food he had put on strength that deterred most guards from their cell. It wasn't long however before they took him away from the cell to start working the mines._

 _It was there that he was reunited with his older brother, Cloy. It had been a hushed reunion, as they had not wanted to draw attention, but it had been exciting nonetheless. As they worked together in the mines they told stories of the years they had been apart, and of the fears that they had for each other._

 _He had been lucky. Cloy was housed in a separate cell block away from the woman and children, but since he was still underage he was permitted to be sent back to his mother and sister, Ghanna. Albeit, he was in a separate cell now. It was the one directly next to theirs, so they were still close. Over the next while he relayed messages from his mother to Cloy and vice versa, helping the two reconnect after all the time spent apart._

 _Things were going well, or as well as they could be considering their enslavement, until Cloy got in a fight with one of the guards. It had happened so fast he hadn't realized he had reacted until he was in the middle of the fray with his brother and five guards. It hadn't ended well. Cloy was beaten into submission, but his true punishment came from watching his little brother tortured._

 _They had taken a wire mesh, dipped it into a barrel of acid, and pressed it against the right side of his face. He could smell his burnt flesh, and hear it sizzle over the sound of his own screams. Cloy had begged for them to stop harming his little brother, but they didn't until there were sizable acid burns covering the better half of his face._

 _He was dumped into his cell that night, crashing into the floor without much resistance. He could hear his mother and little sister calling his name, but he could not bring himself to raise his head in their direction. The burns covered from his ear up to his fin, missing his face by just a fraction. It would undoubtedly scar, a crisscross pattern forever marred onto his scalp. He just could not let them see the fresh wound. It still burned, and he was willing to bet that he was covered in blood._

 _"Yondu?" He felt Ghanna's small hand on his shoulder as she reached through the bars that separated them. He shivered, pulling himself into a ball and covering his head with his arms. He especially didn't want her to see. It was probably gruesome. She didn't need to be exposed to such violent things._

 _His wounds eventually healed, and they scarred as he had already expected. Ghanna ran a finger over the lines, saying that they made him look tough, no fear or judgment given when she was finally allowed to see what they had done to him. She had smiled, her innocence and love shining through all the bad things happening around her. He treasured that look, promising himself that he would never let that innocence be taken from her._

 _He had no way of knowing how much that promise would cost him. But he later decided he'd have paid the price one hundred times over to protect her from what was almost done to her._

 _A few more years had passed, and he had finally reached adulthood but they had not moved him from that cell block. He supposed that they had stopped caring where people were and where they were supposed to be. It had been a relatively quiet evening. He had come back from the mines, sore and tired, but had stayed awake to talk with his mother and Ghanna about Cloy and how he was doing. The guard on duty was making rounds oddly often, he had noticed, and was slowing down in front of their cells. He assumed at first that it was to eavesdrop, and had gone silent. It wasn't until late into the night that the man's true intentions were brought forth._

 _He came to Ghanna's and their mother's cell with the key, having waited for them to fall asleep to unlock it. His heart jumped into his throat when he realized what was happening, and that he was too late to stop it._

 _"Ghanna!" He shouted, jumping to his feet and reaching through the bars to try and stop the man from taking her out of the cell. The guard had smirked, pulling Ghanna outside the cell by her hair and locking the door before their mother could react. The man's intentions were clear, and Ghanna was terrified._

 _"Yondu!" she cried out, tears streaming down her face as she was dragged away. "Yondu, help! Yondu! Mama!" she squeaked as the man pulled on her hair harshly, twisting her to look forward as he dragged her across the cell block._

 _"Ghanna!" he had pressed himself against the bars to see where she was being taken to, his knuckles turned nearly white with the pressure he used to grip the door. It was happening again. He couldn't let it. Not again. "Ghanna!" he looked away from her to the door separating him from his sister, a scowl cementing on his face. He adjusted his hands on the bars and pulled back in a violent fluid motion. The door wouldn't budge. He tried again, and again, and again. The cement cracked and he continued, the violent sounds and the screams waking the people in neighboring cells._

 _"Yondu!"_

 _She was getting further away. It was with this thought in mind that he pulled one more time, and he ripped the door from its hinges._

 _He was out into the hall and on the man before he could think. The guard had looked up in surprise, and barely had the time to reach for his blaster before he was wrenched away from his victim. "Ghanna-" he pushed her behind him, putting himself between her and the guard. "Go-leave!" It was all he could say before the guard engaged him._

 _The exchange was a blur. Blows were back and forth. Other guards joined the scene, but after a quick look he saw that they had taken putting Ghanna back in her cell as a priority over stopping the brawl._ Good. _He thought, wrapping his arm around the guard's throat. He had every intention of killing this man. No one was going to stop him. They could try, but they would not succeed._

 _The guard struggled in his hold, having been completely overwhelmed by his rage induced, adrenaline fueled bloodlust. He could feel the man clawing at his arms, his nails ripping trenches of blood in his skin. But he didn't release him. Instead, he pressed the man up against a nearby cell, using his weight as leverage to tighten his hold around the man's neck, cutting off the rest of his air supply._

 _It was at this moment that the others intervened. He could feel them pulling on him, shouting at him, threatening him, but he would not release his hold. He could hardly hear what they were saying over the ringing in his ears. He didn't care what they did to him, this man was going to die._

 _He was close. So close. The man was losing strength. Just a little longer and he would be no more. The thought didn't make him joyous, it made him all the more angry. This man deserved a long, drawn out, painful death. This was too good for him._

 _He hissed suddenly, feeling one of the guards grab his fin tightly. They said words that he couldn't hear, and then there was pain._

 _It was the most intense pain he had ever felt. Worse than the beatings. Worse than acid. Worse than everything he had suffered in this hell put together. And it was radiating from his fin. He screamed, feeling the pain weaken him._ No! _They would not break him. He would not submit. This man was going to pay for what he intended to do._

 _It was simultaneous. As the pain reached its crescendo, as blood gushed down his spine and flowed down his back, he grasped the man's chin and shoulder, and he twisted it. The snap was loud, and the man fell to the floor in a heap. Dead. Gone. Forever._

 _He collapsed just after the guard hit the floor, the pain rendering him unconscious._

 _When he woke again he was in the cell with his mother and sister. The pain had not stopped, it had in fact worsened. He could barely move, barely breath, barely register the tears streaming down his sister's cheeks as she cradled his head in her lap. She kept apologizing. Over and over she wailed how sorry she was. He didn't understand. The pain in his head had most of his attention. It was like they had dipped his fin into acid…_

 _It took a while, but he slowly started to piece together what was wrong. Ghanna was pressing a rag to the back of his scalp and his neck, to stop the bleeding… where his fin used to be. It was gone. The severed nerves that used to flourish through his fin pulsed with every breath, every heartbeat, bringing him fresh waves of agony with each passing second._

 _They had cut his fin off._

 _"I'm so sorry, Yondu. Yondu, please don't die. You can't…"_

 _Through the pain and shock, he somehow found the strength to shakily take his sister's hand in his, running his thumb over her fingers. "No one…will ever…" he wasn't able to finish his thought before he passed out again, but the message had been clear. While he had breath in his chest and blood flowing through his veins, no one would ever harm her. Even if it killed him..._

I was startled out of the dream-like state I had fallen into by a quiet knocking coming from my door. "Captain?"

 _Sh*t._ It was Layla. I attempted to stand up, but found I was too dizzy to move beyond shifting from my a** to my hands and knees. It occurred to me, perhaps a little unnecessarily, that I hadn't eaten in a very long time. My stomach was in knots, and my hands were visibly shaking with fatigue. Nearly every part of me wanted to tell Layla to f*ck off and go away, but there was a part of me that knew that I could never say that to her. Especially when she might be my only help.

"Come in." My voice cracked, but I managed to be hearable through the door. A second passed before it opened, and Layla stopped in the entry at the sight of me. I didn't notice much about her or what she was carrying, all I could see was the sadness in her eyes. It haunted me. It reminded me so much of my mother's eyes when she saw me just days prior. It wasn't a look of pity, just a sense of anguish.

"Yondu…" She quickly shut the door, and set down the container she had been carrying. Her eyes darted around the room to look at the empty bottles before she turned her gaze to me again. I stayed knelt on the floor, unable to move. I felt so dizzy… "Yondu…" Her voice was tight in her chest as she rushed forward to kneel with me on the ground. I felt her hands on my chest, my neck to check my pulse, my side to check the wound, before they finally came to rest on both sides of my face.

I don't know what I looked like, but it must have been bad. She looked horrified. She said something, but I couldn't hear her. My ears started to ring, and I saw black spots floating around in front of my eyes. She looked even more worried, and quickly jumped up to find the wall com.

I must have blacked out, because next I knew I was on my bed with an I.V. in my arm and Doc hovering over me. He didn't say anything, but he didn't have to. I had blacked out due to dehydration and fatigue. A week of nothing but alcohol could do that to a person. Apparently lack of sleep had something to do with it too. Who'dathunkit right?

Doc prescribed bedrest first, then food as my body was able to handle it, and as he exited my room he paused to add, "You should consider going home, Captain. Some time surrounded by family might be good for you right now."

"F*ck off." I growled, closing my eyes. I heard the door shut, and slowly, as if it would physically shock me, I reached up and ran my fingers over the metal fin that capped off the nerves where my organic fin used to be.

 **I've had this story in mind for so long! It's great to finally have it finished :) Leave a Review! I will have another story out soon :)**


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